


not so super

by melodious (pen_light)



Series: goodnight, sleep tight, don't let your monsters bite [2]
Category: GOT7
Genre: Angst, Depression, Fighting, I will update tags as chapters progress, M/M, Mystery, Prophecy, Superpowers, but this is pretty much the basic gist, superhero au, yeaaaaaa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-16
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-07-22 04:27:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7419739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pen_light/pseuds/melodious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>how can you be something that you're not<br/>how can you be something that they're not</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. not so strange

**Author's Note:**

> hello folks
> 
> welcome to my October project in honor of one of my favorite holidays
> 
> in this collection, there will be three separate books, each starring one of my favorite groups. each book will have three parts. each part will have a theme that will kinda show in each book. the lengths of the book and the chapters can and will vary, all for the benefit of the plot. in no way will it mean that I love one group more than the other.
> 
> the books are:
> 
> >>>  
> dead end- jin centric, bts  
> static- kihyun centric, monsta x  
> unitless- markhyuck, nct
> 
> if you like any of these groups, go ahead and add them to your libraries (lol)
> 
> I hope you enjoy these hehe
> 
> please anticipate these
> 
> -k

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first half is the same as before, but read it till the end, i added more

 

T'was just another night for the city of Soeul.

It wasn't too quiet, it wasn't too loud. Everyone was where they wanted to be, whether it be the club, their beds, or with their friends and family. Whatever it may be, it was just another regular night for the city of Seoul.

In the outskirts of town, in a small area where it wasn't too crowded, in a place with some greenery surrounding the houses, a lone bookkeeper was just packing up from, once again, a dull, inactive day of business. Only the few, regular students had strolled in that day, out of which, most had stayed over to just study and catch up on assignments. No purchases had been made.

Sighing, the man hauled the garbage bag towards the back of the nearby alley, where the dumpsters lay. Sure, it was dark, the only light sources being the few, stray streetlights on either ends of the street, but the area was particularly known for its silent nights. Crimes were highly uncommon, and so, many residents barely paid any attention to the issue of safety.

With a loud clang, the dumpster was flung open, revealing quite the empty space. The man didn't even flinch at the sound, accustomed to the shrill ring of the metal against the old red brick of the building.

Sudden footsteps grew closer, and the bookkeeper took it as his sign to leave, before he had to witness any face sucking by the fellow young ones that hid in the alley to do the kissing.

But a strong, black, gloved hand stopped him mid sprint, and before the man could look up to this individual, he was pushed back, deeper in the alley.

With a groan, the bookkeeper tried to get up, ready to yell at his assaulter, assuming that it was just a frustrated drunk student. But he halted when he caught a glimpse of bright, green beady eyes staring at him through a black mask, the only color on the man shrouded in black. The eyes bore into him and the man couldn't help but shake in fear, slowly creeping back until he ran into the wall.

The attacker's face muscles moved, in what seemed like a smirk, as he pushed forward.

"Mr. Keeper? That's what the kids call you, right?" An automated voice spoke with no tone, no emotion, no anything. "Do you know why I'm here?"

The keeper shook his head furiously, as he tried desperately to get any words to leave his throat. "N-no." He mentally cursed at himself for being so fickle and weak.

"Well, my team and I have been doing some research, and we found that you may have something I've been seeking for, for a while now. Any idea what it may be?"

The bookkeeper racked his mind for anything he could have of value. Nothing came up, besides a few collectors' books in the back of his shop, but something told him that this man wasn't talking about books.

"What's your power?"

"M-my power?" The keeper was confused. It wasn't that great of a power. Quickly, he rushed out his explanation. "Well, I can speak and understand all the languages in the world."

The green lights glared at him even more now, as he leaned in to get a closer look at the keeper. After a few more moments of up close and personal inspection, the man moved back.

"Aw man, it's not you," He said, again, with no tone. "Can you speak any ancient languages?"

The keeper nodded, even more scared from the sudden proximity.

At the response, the attacker hummed, reaching behind him to retrieve something that looked like a strange vial. Tossing it up and down a bit, he let out a chuckle, one that actually sounded human-like.

"Then I guess, you'll be of some actual use to me," The human voice spoke with proper cadence. He pointed the vial at the lost keeper, who didn't understand the height of the situation with the vial and everything. What could a vial do?

The said vial glowed, bright, whirring to life with a loud, magnificent roar.

"Don't worry," The owner of the vial said, taking his mask off. "This will only hurt a little."

The bookkeeper's eyes widened at the identity of his assaulter. "Y-you!"

The vial spat out a dark light that engulfed the keeper whole, the man's body shaking violently in pain and torture as something blue was extracted from his body. The colors danced, returning into the tube, now filled with a neon blue concoction. The victim fell to the ground, limp and lifeless, eyes wide, face expressing shock and pain.

The man in black laughed coldly, reaching back to take out a syringe. Plugging in the tube, he gazed at it, admiring the essence, before driving the needle up his arm and injecting it within his bloodstream.

His whole body shivered as a sudden rush erupted throughout him. His eyes flashed between blue and green, simmering down to reveal his true eyes.

And just like that, it was done. Walking away without a second look back, the man jumped into the shadows, making his quick escape, leaving the dead keeper on the ground. It would quite the surprise to find for the next person to enter the alley.

Moments later, an ear-shattering scream was suddenly heard, making the fleeing man to pause and smirk. It was a job well done.

It may not have been a normal night after all.

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

Alarms blared throughout the small apartment, alerting one of the two boys awake. Jinyoung rose up without any difficulty, easily heading to the washroom in order to freshen up. On the other hand, the blonde in the other room groaned in annoyance as he lifted his covers over his head to block the blaring shrieks of the devices. It hardly did anything.

About the same time as Jinyoung was coming out of the shower, Jackson, the third inhabitant of the apartment, came barging in after his morning workout, sweat dripping from his forehead. He was smiling nonetheless, wide awake and ready for the day.

"Yah Jackson, wake up Mark would'ya," Jinyoung said, without missing a beat, as he always did every day.

With a quick shoot of his hand guns, Jackson bolted for the oldest's room, grinning wildly at the heap in the middle of the mattress. Meanwhile, Mark was curled up, fully awake and fully dreading what was to come.

"Mark hyung!" Jackson exclaimed, ripping off the sheets off of the poor boy who yelped at the sudden cold.

"Jackson, leave me alone!" Mark whined in protest, but with no avail. In the end, he would have to wake up no matter what. Realizing this, the blonde sleeper stood up reluctantly in order to brush his teeth, ignoring Jackson gloats of victory. Eventually, he sluggishly joined his two roommates in the kitchen.

"Eat up, we're going to be late for classes," Jinyoung announced, passing the toast slices around. Hearing a sudden grumble in his stomach sent Mark eagerly reaching for the meal.

"What's today?" Jackson asked curiously. He couldn't care less about which class he had on which day. Being the proactive and hyper lad he was, just like Jinyoung, the both of them always completed their assignments shortly after they were posted. So for them, their schedules weren't as memorized as it was for Mark the procrastinator, a man determined to test his limits minutes before a deadline.

Still, despite his own normal situation, Mark, himself, could find no answer to Jackson's question, as the said man looked at him with a pouty, expectant face.

"Thursday, you pabo," The cook replied, causing Mark to freeze mid bite.

Thursday.

"Oh!" Jackson exclaimed, with quite the volume. "So that means we all start off the day with super studies then, great!"

Jinyoung silently gave Jackson the eye, a signal that only meant 'Shut Up'. Jackson frowned in return, confused, until his eyes widened in realization at his own mistake.

Mark hadn't said a word.

Not until Jackson turned to him with sincere, apologetic eyes. Mark smiled understandingly.

"It's okay Jackson, don't pout, I'm used to it by now."

Jackson shook his head furiously. "Nonono, I get out of hand and then I always end hurting someone, well, mostly you, and I—"

"I know you don't mean it," Mark finished softly, smiling for the sake of his friend. He leaned forward to bring the other in for a hug, laughing when Jackson practically lifted him off of the ground. Jinyoung, who had been observing the scene from behind the counter, rolled his eyes playfully before launching himself forward to join the embrace.

"Group hug!" Jackson yelled, destroying both Mark's and Jinyoung's ear drums at the same time, earning many whines.

"Say," Mark spoke after the trio broke apart. "Aren't you getting late?"

"What? No—"

"Jackson! Out of the house now! The bus will leave, holy mother—okay, no cursing—crap!" Jinyoung screamed, dashing around the apartment to gather both his and Jackson's materials.

"Bye hyung!" He yelled from the door. Mark waved angelically, completely not enjoying the little outbreak at all. "Make sure you eat lunch before you leave and we'll see each other at the library!"

From behind, Jackson chimed in. "Hyung! See you at the gym!"

"Bye~~" Mark sing-songed cheerfully until the two were out of sight. Once they were, the blonde dropped the act, slumping in the nearest sofa, rubbing his face in frustration, letting out a groan.

Most of the times, he was okay.

But, not that day. Mark knew what the unsettling feeling in his gut meant. He could feel another crash coming in, and honestly, with his last one barely a week back, he was in no state to deal with all the covering up or coping.

There were only so many breakdowns a person could take.

And the silly thing was that his "crashes" were always triggered by the smallest of things, not even the bigger jokes could send him in the frenzy he was about to fall into. Jackson's words "We all have super classes" rang through his head, even when Mark tried desperately to divert his attention. Mark's most educated guess was that it was just how he always was. He was always the difference of a tiny, miniscule straw away from falling again and again.

You see, Mark saw himself as useless. He had no direction. Until that point, he was merely going through college by taking the basic courses, maybe entertaining himself with some extra, useless other ones, but by that point, he had no degree, but just credits.

But that wasn't the only reason. That was barely even the reason.

Well, to simply put it as such, the universe was one of power. Superpowers, to be exact.

Everyone, everyone, everyone, and everyone were born with powers, whether grand or small, one or three, people were born with powers. It was literally the rarest case that someone didn't have a power.

Everyone was guaranteed a power, if you even looked at all the pedigrees and science and whatnot, it was all written there.

Then, Mark always wondered, what made him different.

How come—how come he didn't have any powers?

Where did he go wrong?

What did he do wrong?

Questions on questions on questions would pester his mind in this "crash", only driving him a little bit crazier than he already was.

"Why!" Mark screamed into the silent apartment. "Why me?!"

Why him?

Why anybody?

In a world where everyone was so grand, it made it hard for some to accept their flaw in the major component that connected each and every person to one another. No, it wasn't their classification of "Homo homo sapien", but instead power. The weight, the emphasis the world had on these powers, were so mighty that no one looked at them as strange things, but as a normalcy in life. Even scientists overlooked their research on the topic for, there were fairly much more interesting things to work on, such as building devices to do what these powers could do.

Long story short, Mark was not so super in any aspect of his life, from his super factor to his life factor.

The poor boy was astray in a world where it was easy to be forgotten.

Many hours and days were spent by him in his bed, staring at a whimsy fan on the ceiling, as it went round and round and round, till the point where he'd just fall asleep from his lethargic state and dizziness.

And that's what he was doing again, just laying around in bed, and staring.

With a sigh, Mark shut his eyes, before rolling over to his side, getting comfortable for another, long nap. When he looked up to pull the curtains shut, his gaze fell upon a wilted, dying flower, dried up from the intense glory of the sun. Sadly, Mark immediately thought of his amazing, glorious friends, Jinyoung the aspiring doctor, a man gifted with medical powers, and Jackson the triple threat, a man gifted with flight, strength, and speed.

With great care, Mark fed the poor plant some water. "I feel you buddy," He whispered. "I feel you."

The flower's petals dropped one by one.

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

Mark twirled his pen in his hands, amusing himself with a few tricks here and there, as he waited for someone in the library. Suddenly, a hand reached out to catch the flying writing utensil, an eye smile coming into view.

"Yah, Jinyoung! What the hell?" Mark complained, reaching for his pen, which was gladly returned.

"Did you eat?" The ever so concerned, soon to be doctor inquired.

Mark rolled his eyes with a smile. "Yes mother, I did. How were classes?"

In response, Jinyoung snorted. "The amateurs in my class know nothing."

Mark laughed, spinning his pen again. "Where's Jackson?"

Jinyoung shrugged, eyes traveling around the area until it landed on a certain duo. "There he is, with Youngjae."

At that name Mark perked up, instantly following Jinyoung's gaze with heart eyes, to look at the beauty that was Youngjae. Mark melted at open mouth laugh as Youngjae reacted to probably the dumbest joke said by Jackson.

"You know he's studying for—"

"—music therapy," Mark completed Jinyoung's statement. "I know."

Jinyoung looked at his best friend, shaking head. It's been the same story for the past year and half, ever since Youngjae had enetered the college. For a year and half, all Mark had done was pine after the boy, living off of the little interactions they had in the library or between classes. He wanted to help his friend, wanted to tell him that, yea, Youngjae would most probably love having Mark by his side. But, alas, Mark was too caught up in his lackings to accept any help or anything they said.

While Jackson and Jinyoung would push Mark to make the move, the boy always resisted. Youngjae deserves better, Mark would always say, to himself, to them, to the world, to everyone. Youngjae deserves the best, he deserves the world. And with that, the topic would be dropped and Mark would still be the guy in the sidelines.

"Mark..."

"Jinyoung, please, don't," Mark said, words heavy. His face was tense and tired, and Jinyoung knew what that meant.

"You didn't eat, did you?" It's happened again, right?

"You have the powers, why don't you check it out?" No, please, not here. Leave it alone.

Jinyoung took in a deep breath, instinctively scanning his best friend he loved. Mark was getting worse, there was no doubt.

"Please," Jinyoung pleaded, pulling Mark away from the scene, to look into his eyes. "Eat something, please. Here, I have a granola bar, and then I'll make some tasty ramyun at home."

Mark's empty, dull eyes stared right back into Jinyoung's searching ones. There was no escaping his best friend, and maybe that's why Mark loved him, for his persistence and determined faith in people, something Mark didn't have. Heck, he had no faith in himself, how could he believe in others.

The ringing of laughs of Jackson and Youngjae were heard in the background as the third member of their trio took his leave from his conversation to join his roommate crew. In no time, Jackson, too, would read the tension of the situation, and, Mark didn't need this to be a bigger deal than it already was.

Thankfully, he took the granola bar, finally feeling a loud pang in his stomach, as it begged for food in hunger.

"Hyung?" Jackson's booming voice startled the duo. "Are you okay?"

"Just fine, Jackson," Mark replied rather too quickly and shortly. "I'm just fine. How about you?"

But Jackson was looking at Jinyoung, as the two shared a look, and Mark knew what that meant.

"I'm great. Well, I mean, I'm sore from today, and everything, and you must be sore too," Jackson began to ramble, sitting down right next to Mark, him and Jinyoung creating a little protective sandwich around Mark.

Mark appreciated it greatly, he really did.

But he never knew how to say his thanks.

He opened his mouth, as usual, to say something, to express his gratitude to the two men for being his friends besides all his problems.

But he was stopped by a sudden crash in the room, near the bookshelves, right where—

"Youngjae?!" Jackson and Mark suddenly exclaimed, standing up to rush to check on the little boy. Jinyoung stood up too, following the two as they ran to the site.

Many others had made it over there too, all watching the scene with googly, curious, fantastical eyes, some of them taking out their phones to record or snap the moment. And Mark knew just why.

For in the pile of books, laid Youngjae, the pure, innocent flower boy, all spread out, as another, much larger, built, muscular man was situated on top of him, with each hand on either side of Youngjae's head as he kept himself up. Youngjae was panting, heavily, out of shock, eyes wide, cheeks flushed from embarrassment as he stared straight into the mystery man's face.

Murmurs vibrated through the crowd, as everyone began to speculate, minds probably running into the gutter.

"Well," The man's deep, husky voice spoke, silencing everyone. "This is quite the first impression."

"Yea?" Youngjae squeaked, completely uncomfortable with his position and predicament.

Smirking at the innocence, the man jumped up, grabbing Youngjae's hand and hauling him up into his arms with ease. "Are you okay sweetheart?"

Mark could hear a few people crooning at the move, rolling his eyes at their ability to fall for anyone and anything.

The man didn't let Youngjae go for a while, annoying Mark even more. Eventually, he had to, and he did. Youngjae, with evident relief, jumped back and fixed himself up with slight awkwardness. At least Mark wasn't the only one not okay with this.

The man suddenly turned, looking straight in Mark's direction, and Mark froze, seeing the striking handsome face that completely matched the man's built up body.

"Guys," Jackson's whisper rang through Jinyoung and Mark's ears. "Meet Im Jaebum, the current talk of the school."

"Oh god, they all love him," Jinyoung commented, noticing the awestruck fellow crowd members.

But, Mark could prove that statement wrong easily.

They all didn't love him.

Mark, for one, hated Jaebum.

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

Not only did Mark not like Jaebum, he was highly suspicious of the man.

There was this strange aura around him, something dark, something evil. Jinyoung just checked his temperature and told him that he was exaggerating, that there was no way that any psychic super hadn't felt it.

"Maybe it's something that supers can't sense," The oldest had suggested, jabbing his fork in the meal Jinyoung had made for him, trying to force some food into the boy.

Jackson hopped into the room, stomach instantly letting out a large growl. "Yea, and it's called jealousy."

Mark rolled his eyes, leaning over to flick Jackson on the head. Before he could, Jinyoung's wooden spatula came down on his wrist, cracking against his skin as loud as a firecracker. Mark recoiled and sent a glare, to which Jinyoung shot a look in Mark's direction. Behind the commotion, Jackson smugly winked at the lovesick fool. Jinyoung whacked Jackson in the head.

Their dinner was then eaten mostly in peace. A few gibber-gabbers were exchanged occasionally, but mainly, their attentions were captured by their food.

Jinyoung gave him a little pat on the back, pitching in to help with the dishes.

"Whatever it is that you're feeling, _if_ —and I stress the if— _if_ it really is something bad, then keep an eye out for trouble,"

Mark looked up at Jinyoung's pensive state. "Are you implying—"

"Remember hyung," Jinyoung finished off drying the plate. " _If_."

Mark's gaze followed Jinyoung's cold movements until the man was out of sight. He sighed, rubbing his face in frustration. 

"Goddamint Park, can't you give me a straight answer just once," he mumbled. 

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

Others had the tendency to run to escape their minds, yet, ever the exception, Mark wasn't an escaper. An embracer was probably the proper term.

The light jog had small huffs heaving through Mark's chest, his hoodie hanging loosely around his head and body, poorly retaining whatever body heat he managed to emit. Regardless, Mark managed to break a little sweat, the chill eating at his skin.

For more than a split second, Mark closed his eyes, focusing intently on the focused coldness on his nose. There was a high chance that the boy's nose was Rudolph red by then.

A shove met with his shoulder, jolting Mark awake. He managed to regain his balance immediately, recoiling from the fright at record speed. The other person didn't seem to have the same luck.

"Wha—" Mark froze, a gasp caught in his throat. Worried, he hopped forward to help the individual up. "Youngjae?"

Youngjae was crying, silent sobs racking his body as he rubbed at his eyes in a futile attempt to brush the tears away. They just kept coming back. His cheeks, eyes, and nose were crimson, lips chewed to a magenta. The boy was a mess, from head to toe. Mark noticed the thin, doctor's coat Youngjae had on; it being the only piece of clothing the younger was wearing to block the cold. Instinctively, the worried man stripped his hoodie, ignoring his own body's cry for warmth, and wrapped it around Youngjae.

When asked about what was wrong, Youngjae broke down even further, his answers spewing out in incoherent, incomplete sentences.

"Dark...Cruel...I...help..." Mark immediately shushed him, steadying the boy with his body. Upon further observation, he realized that Youngjae was in no shape to walk without support. Kneeling on his knee, Mark ushered Youngjae onto his own back, nonstop speaking small words of comfort.

Eventually, the crying boy fell asleep on Mark's back, loose arms laced around the older's neck, a hand gripping at the t-shirt for leverage. Mark carefully made his way to Youngjae's dorm, not wanting to disturb the boy's already perturbed slumber.

When at the door, Mark hiked Youngjae up his back to readjust his weight onto one hand. Struggling, Mark knocked a few times, forever thankful that Yugyeom instantly responded.

"Hello? Oh! Hey Mark hyu— Is that Youngjae hyung?!" The dancer's eyes widened, flitting from Youngjae to Mark to Youngjae and finally to Mark again. "Bammie! Get over here! Mark hyung, here let me help you."

Cautiously, Yugyeom led Mark towards Youngjae's room, Bambam hot on their heels. As if Youngjae were a newborn baby, the three of them cradled the boy until he was comfortably laying in bed. That's when the two young ones noticed the tear tracks.

"What happened?" Bambam's tone wasn't accusing or harsh, completely opposite of what Mark was expecting.

Mark shrugged, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. "I have no idea to be honest. We ran to each other, and I couldn't leave him alone in that state."

Yugyeom nodded, deep in thought. "Something must've happened at his internship...he's still in his uniform."

 _Yea, but what?_ Mark wanted to desperately ask. _What could've torn at this angel so viciously?_

Instead, he settled to say something else. "I-i guess I should be heading home. I just wanted to make sure he was okay."

The duo nodded, Bambam turning to lead Mark out. Right before he closed the door, he smiled.

"Thanks hyung. Who knows what could've happened if you hadn't found Youngjae hyung."

Mark stared at Bambam in confusion.

"It's not safe out there anymore," The Thai explained grimly. Shaking his head, he smiled again. "I'll see you around then, hyung. Goodnight."

"Good...night," Mark muttered, Bambam's words repeating in his head. _It's not safe out there anymore._

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

On his way out of the dormitory complex, Mark's heart raced and thumped viciously against his chest. He kicked at the rocks, shivering against the cold. Youngjae still had his sweatshirt with him.

He reached the gates and slipped out easily without making a sound. To warm himself and shorten his journey, Mark prepared himself to make a run for it.

But he stilled, his peripheral view catching onto something rather odd.

A figure, surrounded in green light, was looming over the buildings, gaze fixated towards the rooms. Mark squinted, almost falling over himself when he realized who it was.

_Im Jaebum._

His movements caused him to step on a stick, the crack vibrating through the ground, shaking it like an earthquake.

Jaebum turned to look over at Mark.

Their gazes met. Fire fought with ice.

The man's expressionless complexion shifted. A sly, nerve chilling smirk etched slowly on his face. A glow seemed to twinkle in his eyes. The light seemed to glow brighter.

Mark was frozen, his heart beat completely absent. He wanted to do something, anything—just, something. But his mind wasn't calibrated with his body. 

Jaebum's gaze intensified, and, within a blink of an, he vanished, the light wiping any trace that was left.

Mark could move again, heavy breaths leaving his body.

 

"What," He coughed out, lungs screaming for air. "What kind of hellish power is that?" 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \------------
> 
> i doubt the chapters will be as lengthy, but ill try my best to maintain the stucture
> 
> i hope you liked it 
> 
> i loved it
> 
>  
> 
> happy 16th day of halloween peeps
> 
> until next time, 
> 
> k


	2. not so super

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (my poor bby youngjae, hope he's feeling better)
> 
> i've read over this too much (its like delayed everything) and idk how to fix it -_-

 

Seoul fell victim once again.

The man shrouded in black leaned against the brick wall of an alleyway, his latest victim laying lifeless at his feet. He stared at the young student, a glint in his eyes. Satisfaction and Pride.

A call rang through his earpiece.

"How close are you?"

Still recovering from the surge of power he had just gained, the criminal blissfully smirked. "Closer than you could ever be."

The other side of the line remained silent for a moment. "Get off your high and think about who you are talking to. I'd revise your statement again."

Rolling his eyes at the harsh tone, the super answered playfully. "I am ahead of schedule, _sir_."

"Have you found it?"

The reply was a hefty scoff. "I have. All I have to do is obtain it."

The boss on the line laughed. "I knew you could do it. Who else is more capable than my most powerful super in the league. In the whole world for that matter."

The murderer's ego grew. "I shall have obtained the power in no time," He said, hand clutching an empty vial. "Even if its the last thing I do."

The boss chuckled darkly. "That's a good boy." And with that, he ended the call.

The crisp air crackled, stinging at the figure's face. He let his head roll back, a sense of contentment washing over him.

"Oh poor, _sir_ ," He breathed out, his breath disappearing in a puff. The vial was tossed in the air. It shimmered in the moonlight. "He doesn't have a clue of my power if he thinks that I'll just hand over the light to him..."

The wind cackled in agreement.

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

"Long night?" Mark lifted his head from his arm pillow, sleepy eyes staring right at his lab partner. The curious eyes behind the thick glasses observed him closely.

Mark nodded softly. "You could say something like that." More like a strange morning. He'd woken up in a cold sweat and with a pounding headache.

His lab partner's gaze fell to his clothes, a knowing expression on his face. Mark looked down in confusion, slapping his forehead in realization. He was still in his night clothes.

"Must have been something..." The suggestive tone poked at Mark in the wrong manner.

"It's not like that," He grumbled, trying to control some form of strange anger. "My jog just went on for too long."

Raising his hands in defeat, the other apologized quickly for the rash assumption. "But wait," He continued to question Mark, regardless of his previous apology. "You were outside... _alone_?"

Mark froze. "What do you mean?"

"You don't know?"

 _I think I should._ Mark thought, agreeing with his thoughts by shaking his head. Bambam's words replayed in his head again. _It's not safe out there anymore._

His partner ticked in disapproval. "Listen to the news a few times, will ya? It'll do you some good. There's a serial killer on loose. He's been killing random people off of the streets, almost one every night."

Mark's eyes bulged. "What?" He wasn't expecting that. "For how long?"

The boy shrugged. "It's been going on for a week. They haven't gotten any leads, since there's no pattern in the attacks. But, get this, some say it has to do with _the_ _prophecy_."

Mark's eyes darted from side to side as he fell deep in thought. Less concerned about himself, his worries shifted towards someone else. Youngjae had been alone the night before, right? Could it be?

The possibility of the purpose of the boy's condition being exactly what Mark was thinking about clicked something in him.

Mark stood up abruptly, the cold yet determined expression slightly scaring his buddy.

"M-mark?" The boy's voice was wavering. "Where are you going?"

Mark gripped his pencil tightly, the anger returning. "I have to check something." His voice was deeper than usual. "Please, carry on in class without me." And with that, he left the classroom, not even giving his partner a second glance or a better explanation.

The confused lad stared at the door through which Mark had stormed out. "What's with him?" He wondered out loud, shivers running down his spine. "Why did his attitude change so suddenly?"

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

Youngjae walked past the graveyard gates as if he were returning to his own grave in the ground. His eyes were empty, his once bright face now as dark as death itself. The poor boy strolled robotically through the rows of graves, towards a single one in particular.

He tried to recollect all that he had to tell his father. Well, his foster father. What was the reason for such an untimely visit in the middle of the semester? Typically, Youngjae would visit during breaks, wanting to spend more time in his hometown.

Youngjae thought back to his breakdown the night before. He thought back to hearing the news reports about the attacks. He thought back to one of the patients who went ballistic after seeing the scene being reported. Youngjae, not knowing what the displayed image was, was in the dark when he dealt with the disturbed individual.

In the end, the person had to be sedated, all the months of therapy seeming to be erased in the few seconds of a measly glance at a picture.

Youngjae thought back to how foolish he had been when he let his curiosity to take over him. He knew how emotional he was. But still, like the idiot he was, Youngjae had to turn on the news, right at the moment where the reporter was showing off the crime scene.

Youngjae thought back to his flashback, the one of him finding his father in the same position years ago. At that moment in the hospital, Youngjae was thrown back into his 10 year old body, the one that had walked to the back of his house in search of his father. The one that had stilled in his path when he saw the man he was searching for lying on the floor, limp. The one that had ignorantly thought that his dad was just sleeping. At least, until he saw the open, lifeless, rolled back eyes. Youngjae remembered screaming, the tears rolling down in his cheeks in an instance.

Youngjae thought back to how he felt the same happening to him. He thought back to how the hospital had suddenly closed in on himself, the need to run coursing through his veins intensely. And run he did. Still in uniform, Youngjae ran and ran and ran, sobs wracking his body. The thoughts of the victims in the past and the recent victims suddenly plagued his mind, and his heart was crushed beyond the powder it already was.

The next morning wasn't any better for him. Youngjae needed closure, an outlet—a recourse.

"Father," He whispered as he continued to walk towards the grave. The next words didn't come out, his thoughts a jumbled mess. Just how was he supposed to explain everything that had happened?

"I know I should be in class studying..." He tried to open the conversation on a light note in an attempt to avoid another emotionally heavy breakdown. "...but I really cou—what the..."

Youngjae stopped in his tracks, wide shaky eyes staring at his father's grave.

"Who would—" The dirt was dug up, a deep hole reaching into the ground. The coffin that had been lowered years before was gone, the cavity it left behind bare to the outside world.

Youngjae sprinted to the gravestone. He tossed the flowers he had brought away, frantic hands brushing away at the dust. He gasped, tears threatening to fall from his eyes again.

"What sick joke is this?!" He cried, fingers clutching at the dried out grass surrounding the grave. He shook his head in denial at the scratches stretching across the name and the slashes piercing through the thick stone.

Youngjae looked around desperately, hoping to see other graves with the same state, as if the fact would provide him some solace. But, unlike the one right in front of him, the others were in tip-top condition.

Somewhere nearby, a twig snapped in half. Youngjae froze, fear conquering him. He wasn't alone.

Hesitantly, the boy turned around, hands lit up, his energy concentrated into his palms. It was a measly power, the power of light, its only uses in a fight being blinding or singeing the enemy.

A low snicker alarmed the alert super. Trying to keep his composure, Youngjae put on a battling stance, the exact one he had learned in his super classes.

The source of the snicker spoke in amusement. "Do you really believe that you can even _injure_ me with such a stance?"

_I can try._

"Your innocence almost makes me want to let you go. _Almost_. But I've been looking for you for a long time."

Youngjae was incredibly confused. Why would the person want _him,_ of all people?

A masked stranger came in his view. The built man strolled casually in Youngjae's direction. He was waving an old, tattered leather book tauntingly.

"Your father left a nice present." Gesturing to the book once again, the enemy turned to a specific, bookmarked page. "It has the one thing that every villain has tried to find. And to believe it was hidden in a middle-classman's grave."

Youngjae frowned at the jeers about his father. "What do you mean? You're the one who destroyed my dad's grave? Yah! Give that back!" Angered, the super lunged forward, his protectiveness for his family blinding his common sense.

A hand rose, freezing Youngjae mid-stride. "Foolish boy. You should know better than to run with your heart and not your head... Ah! Here it is..."

Gloved hands grabbed Youngjae's face jarringly. "So beautiful," the shrouded man whispered, deeply observing his victim's complexion. "It'd be a shame to put down such a beautiful creature..."

Youngjae couldn't move. His eyes shook, afraid.

"This world was too cruel for such innocence and purity anyways," The attacker mused, proud at his justification of his words. "I can ensure that you will rest well in the heavens with other angelic beings like yourself. How's that sound?"

The question diffused through the graveyard.

Peering down to the book, the man brought two fingers to Youngjae's forehead as he began to chant the strange characters written in the journal.

Each word burned at Youngjae's chest, the fire spreading throughout his torso. It was scorching, like acids burning through his skin. Youngjae wanted to cry at the unbearable pain.

His body began to light up. At that moment, the man in front of him closed his book and stepped back, admiring the scene in front of him.

The spell that had encased Youngjae broke once a comforting light surrounded him. The new feeling was beautiful, a bliss that Youngjae had never felt before.

The super was too caught up in his pleasure to notice the various shots fired his way, all meant to steal his power. The white energy shielded him from the attacks of the gun.

Swearing, the man ripped off his mask, his angry eyes boring through the shield. Lasers shot out, effectively weakening Youngjae's defense.

From the bushes, something hot and liquid shot out, sizzling immediately as it came in contact with the evil man. The poison instantly seeped into the felon's bloodstream, incapacitating the man.

A worried Jinyoung jumped over the fences guarding the cemetary, his medic eyes purple, as he examined Youngjae. The said boy drifted down, the light dissipating towards Jinyoung and replenishing the man's power in gratitude.

Giving one last look at the man he had just taken down, Jinyoung picked up Youngjae with ease, dashing away from the scene completely.

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

When Mark arrived to the dorms, Jinyoung was nowhere to be found. While his initial intentions were to question his roommate about his strange changes, the weight of exhaustion had sunk him into a soft pillow fort, one exactly like the missing super would've been doing with a book in his hand.

A crash woke him up.

A rather loud one, too.

Mark shot to his feet, heart beating harder than ever. His senses were all heightened, and he wore a feral, threatening expression.

Jinyoung looked at him with wide eyes, shock written all over his face. A quick shift in the eye brought Mark's attention to the boy on his back.

Upon noticing who it was, Mark practically growled. A knowing gasp escaped Jinyoung's lips.

"Hyung," He whispered, testing the waters of the practical stranger standing in front of him. "H-hyung...I need you to calm down. I'm just helping. There was an incident, and he just needs rest, but its al—"

Something flickered in Mark's eyes causing Jinyoung to curse out loud. On his back, Youngjae whined a bit, tightening his hold on the medic carrying him. Frowning, the tired boy looked up, assessing his surroundings.

"Jinyoungie-hyung?" He croaked, voice lost. "Mark-hyung? Why are you standing like that?"

At the hearing of his name, Mark visibly relaxed. His shoulders sagged, and the haze that had riled him up dissipated. He was left bewildered as the memory of the sudden outburst filtered itself in his mind. "I-i...was...umm...on my way."

Jinyoung opened his mouth to protest, only to stop himself when he saw the slight shake of his head.

"Just need to clear my head," The oldest explained curtly. He gave Youngjae a gentle look, slightly smiling at the adorable sleepiness of the younger. "Feel better, Youngjae-ah. I'll be back soon."

Youngjae muttered a little something along the terms of 'See you later', words lost in the drool on Jinyoung's shirt.

Before exiting the dorm, the said medic shared one last glance with Mark, trying their best to read into the man. Concern was spelled out by his body language, making the other almost want to stay. But, something told Mark it wasn't the time to talk.

"I'll be back soon," He stressed, a pang of guilt stabbing at his chest.

Jinyoung sighed with a nod. He then turned, making his way for the nearest room.

 

**_//not so super//_ **

 

A few shots and beer bottles later, Mark was borderline wasted. With great difficulty, the bartender had forced him off of the counter and to the floor, in hopes of getting rid of the dead weight blocking the other customers.

"Go home and wash up," He said in a fake compassionate tone. "You'll feel better."

Mark hummed in agreement, a nice warm bath actually sounding appealing. Maybe he could get Jinyoung to make him one of those herbal ones he always saw online.

Obnoxiously saluting the server, Mark stomped out of the bar, and into the broad night light. A giggle erupted from his throat, and suddenly, the boy was clutching his stomach as he fell into a fit of laughter.

Strangely, the giggles sobered the man up. It wasn't long before Mark was staring at the ground in confusion, wondering what was so funny that he was almost dying.

The nightlight above him flickered. Mark's eyes widened. Something seared across his back, the pain shooting. The drunk man's back arched as he fell to his knees. Holding back the cries of agony, Mark endured the splitting sensation.

The heat turned to ice, needles rushing from his back to his body.

Suddenly, it stopped.

Mark fell forward, breaths jagged, saliva dripping from his mouth. There was a thin line of cold sweat coating his body.

A shrill cry for help startled the man. Mark turned his head towards the faint sound, assessing the distance between the source of the cry and him. Something inside of him stirred, mixing the potions here and there, an disaster just waiting to blow.

The final ingredient was another, weaker plea. Now the voice was clearer, easier to identify. It barely took Mark a couple of milliseconds to realize who it was.

There was a flash.

Mark landed on wobbly feet, his balance unstable. The man fell, the thump disrupting the eerie silent in the dorm.

Hesitantly, the shaking student raised his line of sight. He almost choked on his spit at the scene.

Everything— _everything_ was borderline destroyed. The furniture was turned over, evident signs of a struggle and a fight all over the space. Jackson's punches and Jinyoung's poisonous attacks were lost in the walls. A strange singe accompanied the holes.

Mark frowned, noticing the concentrated areas in which the attacks were. _Deflection_ , he deduced.

Quickly, the man stood up, trudging through the debris.

"Jackson? Jinyoung? Youngjae?" He yelled, sifting through the damage.

Not even a few strides in, Mark found his roommates, beaten to pulp, limp on the floor. He rushed forward to shake them, the worst case scenario plaguing his head.

To his relief, Jinyoung's eyes fluttered slightly. A frail blue glow spread through the boy's body, the healing reaching over to Jackson.

The twisted feeling in Mark's gut grew. The man looked around one last time. "Where's Youngjae?"

"He took him..." was all Jinyoung could manage.

Mark closed his eyes. A shrill tune shot through his ears, the ringing intensifying with every second.

"...hyung?" Jinyoung brought his hand to the man's face. Dark energy flowed down his arm at the contact. Jinyoung winced.

"I shouldn't have left," Mark whispered. He had been foolish to just storm out before. "I should've stayed."

Jinyoung let his arm drop. With great difficulty, he tried to console his friend. "If that's what you think... then why don't you fix it."

The ringing had almost muted the words. But Mark had definitely heard them.

Nodding, the man stood up, heading for the door. The sounds in his head disappeared. A soft flame spread through his back.

 

 

 _C'mon Mark Tuan_ , he thought, eyes glinting red. _It's time to do something right._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if there are any mistakes or something doesnt make sense or it seems rushed just talk to me
> 
> im tired with trying to fix this idk why i had so much trouble but im sorry :(
> 
> either way, how it going?
> 
> do you like it?
> 
> are you excited for halloween?
> 
> i really hope this isnt as rushed as i think its going
> 
> oh well


	3. not so super

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what is this

Seoul's most feared criminal laid his victim out on the ground. He lightly brushed the few specks of Sheetrock that had caught onto the younger's wooly sweater. The said boy stirred into consciousness.

He was a bit disoriented from the previous battle. In hopes of saving his hyungs, the boy had jumped in front of the attack, getting the full brunt of the blow.

"Why did you do that?" His kidnapper asked. "Why would you waste your pretty self for those scum?"

Youngjae slowly crawled back. "I don't know what you're talking about. You're the real scum here."

A jackal like laugh bellowed into the air. "That's cute. Real cute. Oh god, I'm sorry." The man pretended to wipe a tear from his mask. Something occurred in the man's mind and he froze. Slowly, ever so slowly, he removed the mask from his face.

Youngjae's gasp pierced through the night.

"If I'm going to kill you, I guess the least I could do was show you my face..."

The younger's voice shook. "J-jaebum hyung?"  
  
  


**//not so super//**   
  
  


Mark searched and searched and searched. Youngjae was nowhere to be seen.

His own roommates were highly unaware of the danger the boy was in.

"Oh, he's still at his hometown. He wanted to refresh his mind," Yugyeom had explained against Bambam's yelling in the background. The boy had moved the phone away from his face to yell at the Thai before returning to the conversation. "Huh? Oh, yea. Do you want to leave a message, Mark-hyung?"

Mark had denied the offer quickly, ending the call with a small vote of thanks.

Time was a ticking. It was clicking away restlessly.

Mark rubbed at his temples. His mind was hazy in all the analyzation he was doing of the city. Just where could the man have taken Youngjae?

Lingering outside the gates surrounding the lost boy's dorms, the student's gaze fell onto the same spot where his number one suspect had stood. The vivid memory flashed in his brain. _Bingo_ , Mark thought.

The forest. It was the only area he hadn't checked yet. Sprinting, Mark ventured into the deep woods.

A booming laugh lured him right to the clearing where two boys were. One was on the ground, trying to get away from the shrouded one in front of him. _Youngjae_ was trying to get away.

Mark's ears perked at a name. "J-jaebum hyung?" A satisfied grin ghosted his chapped lips.

The suspect threw the mask to the ground. "Yes. It is me, Im Jaebum. I'm Seoul's most feared criminal. I guess I'll be the world's most feared—once I _kill_ you."

Mark dug his heels into the dirt. He had to think. He had to think before he jumped in.

"You know," He announced as he walked into the scene with a strut. "I never understood why villains always announced their plans or their crimes before the kill. I guess it's so that the good guys like me can come in to save the day." Good one.

Jaebum looked at Mark from head to toe. Scoffing, the man diverted his full attention to the new character.

"Good guy? You have to have _powers_ to be a good guy, Tuan."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Not necessarily. All you need to be is the classic pathetic student who undergoes some wild change and has a horrible sense of time, power, and responsibility."

Intensifying his glare, Jaebum snarled. "I could kill you right now, Mark Tuan. I'd watch out with that comfort level of yours."

Mimicking the expression, Mark's eyes glinted, a sudden wave of confidence washing over him. "I'd like to see you _try_."

Like flipping a light switch, Jaebum's powers were ignited. The attack was shot in milliseconds. Youngjae's shout for Mark reached the latter's ears a second too late.

But it wouldn't have mattered anyways.

The concentrated ball of energies dulled into the ground, into the area where Mark had been standing. Had been standing.

Jaebum fell forward a bit. From behind him, Mark's finger tapped at his shoulder. It was an immature trick. Jaebum looked the wrong way, and Mark snickered.

"You think this is funny?" Jaebum was fuming.

Mark hummed, becoming the wall between Youngjae and Jaebum. His eyes shone red.

"Will the darkest answer their call..." Jaebum's whisper instigated a tug from Mark towards the youngest of the trio. "I thought—I though that I was the darkest..." The act of confusion had Youngjae slightly worried. The villain was stumbling back and losing his balance.

"Is he okay?" Youngjae stood up and held onto Mark's arm.

Mark saw through the grand display. It was a weak attempt to divert their attention. "Stand back," He gently ordered Youngjae.

"I-if I can't be the darkest," Jaebum's low voice sent shivers down duo's spine. "then no one can." Green light shot out of his palms.

Mark was quick to react. He countered the attack with his own beam of light. Black and green collided, causing shadows to dance in the nighttime.

Youngjae's hold tightened, and Mark could feel his strength grow. Tattoos spread from his back to his chest and arms, the intricate inkings shining red as well. Power coursed through the symbols. The area that had pained before was surging, but in a comfortable manner.

Jaebum was faltering in no time. His collection of powers were no match for the pair standing in front of him. With every second passing by, the man could feel all his energies leave his body one by one. With every second passing by, a part of Jaebum abandoned him.

White rings of flowers surrounded Youngjae's body, much like Mark's itself. The only difference was that Mark was labeled with dark thorns and no petals.

"Finish him hyung," Youngjae said. Mark reached down to entwine their fingers.

"Anything for you." Ebony rope like structures shot through Jaebum's attack, coming in direct contact with the man. The 'bad guy' screamed in excruciating pain. Piece by piece, he fell apart, allowing ghost like projections to jump out of his body. The stolen powers rose into the air, desiring to find their masters. Eventually, they kept rising, their destination apparent.

"Home," Youngjae marveled. "They're going home to their masters. In heaven."

With Jaebum defeated, Mark thought back to his own destroyed home. Not letting go of their hands, the boy turned to Youngjae.

"I think we should return home too."

Youngjae yawned, leaning against Mark heavily. "I agree."

Laughing, Mark warped them out of the clearing and into his bedroom.

They fell on the nearest bed, the two changed supers finding their slumber within each other's arms. Beat by beat, their snores never broke the rhythm they had.

From the doorway, Jinyoung and Jackson peered in curiously.

"How'd you know?" The question had been eating away at Jackson since he had returned.

Jinyoung flicked the stronger harshly. "I'm a medic. I can tell."

Jackson stuck his tongue out. "Not that. The prophecy. How'd you know that it was about _them."_

Jinyoung's eyes casted to the tattoos on the sleeping boys' arms. "I didn't," He confessed quietly. "It was merely a coincidence. **_For_** ** _the purest of them al_** ** _l,_** ** _of whose_** ** _will the darkest answer their call_** ** _._** I noticed Mark's aura change after his visit to Youngjae. I figured something must have been up. I didn't know it was this though. Me getting involved is just a huge coincidence."

Mark shifted a bit, his arm holding Youngjae closer.

Jinyoung didn't say anything else. Instead, he pushed Jackson out towards his own room. "Let's give them their time," he whispered. "Plus, you and I need to rest as well. My powers can't heal you all the time." Without another word, Jackson followed the commands.

"Coincidences are the most dangerous," Jackson grimly thought out loud. Seconds later, he was asleep.   
  
  


**//not so super//**   
  
  


Cracking his eyes open, Mark's line of sight immediately met with a particular item in his room. The oldest smiled big.

The wilted flower was upright. It was standing, strong and tall, its petals shining in the single ray of sunlight that had entered the room.

Mark's heart tightened.

"We did it, little guy," He said. Mark looked at Youngjae. "We did it." He followed the lines tracing his arms. "I guess we're quite super after all."

"Very," Youngjae chimed in groggily. "You're very super."

The flower flowed in the whistle of the wind in agreement.

"But I don't feel different," Mark truthfully confessed with a sigh. There was no heroic feeling. They was no gain of strength. There no change in physique. Mark was just Mark. A Mark with tattoos.

"It's really disappointing.There's nothing to being super." Youngjae explained, nuzzling his head in Mark's warm chest. "There's nothing special. For in the end, everyone, including you and me, is just a normal person."

Mark giggled a bit, eyes shutting on their own.   
  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

 

"I guess we're all **_not so super_** , after all."  
  
  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm too lazy to write a long author note   
> how was it  
> did you like?  
> it was quick but I tried my best (i'll see if i can return to this after this school year and improve it? not that it would make a difference, but i'd feel better)  
> love you guys


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